


like glass unshattering

by astralgabriel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Brotherly Bonding, Canon Compliant, Episode: s13e13 Devil's Bargain, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-06 17:46:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14062122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astralgabriel/pseuds/astralgabriel
Summary: Arthur Ketch comes to the Winchesters and Castiel with information about a certain archangel's continued existence.





	1. the plan

**Author's Note:**

> so, i finally decided to write my take on a 13x13 fix-it!

“You better not be wasting our time, Ketch,” Dean bit out, leaning forward out his chair. Ketch let out a short, amused huff from where he sat opposite, and shook his head.

“Trust me, Winchester, I’m putting my own life on the line here,” Ketch said, holding his poker face. Castiel regarded him carefully, and Arthur felt vaguely uncomfortable under his unblinking stare; Sam watched him, too, but there was a more distant look behind his eyes. “Asmodeus revealed the ace up his sleeve, and he- I have limits. That crossed the line.”

Dean frowned, his brow furrowing. “Spit it out already.”

“I want to make a deal first,” Ketch replied, interlacing his fingers atop the table as he lifted his chin. “I want protection.”

It was Sam’s turn to chime in as his mouth pulled into a confused grimace. “Protection? From what? And why would we help you, anyway?”

“Asmodeus will know it was me - I doubt he flaunts his prized toy to the masses,” Ketch said, wincing slightly at the undertone of bitterness he heard laced in his own words. He prided himself on his ability to emotionally detach with ease, and yet the horror that swelled in his stomach when he first peered within the cell, the sadness at seeing something so holy being baselesly corrupted, he couldn’t shake it.

Dean glanced at Sam, who gave a slight shrug, then to Castiel, who simply tilted his head, his cool, collected expression still very much in place. Dean pinched the bridge of his nose then sighed. “Fine. Whatever. It’s not like we’re in any position to turn away help, but this better be worth it.”

“Asmodeus has somehow obtained an archangel blade.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes and said, “A worrying development, but unless-”

“Unless wielded by an archangel, useless, I’m aware,” Ketch cut in, flashing a cold smirk. Castiel’s lips tightened into a scowl, but he remained quiet. “Which leads me to the more pressing matter at hand - the archangel he’s currently trying to... train.”

Sam looked more alert at that, clenching his jaw as he glanced at Dean and Castiel - Dean was a picture of disbelief and resignation, whereas Castiel wore barely concealed horror. “Who?”

“God’s Messenger, the archangel Gabriel.”

“You’re lying,” Castiel said, his voice low, daring Ketch to argue back. “My brother is dead. I felt it. I saw his body.”

Ketch shrugged, attempting to convey a false nonchalance under the Seraph’s sharp glare. “Come look for yourself, angel. It wouldn’t benefit me at all to lie to you.”

Castiel rounded on Ketch, and pressed his fingers sharply against the hunter’s head; Ketch slumped back against his chair as Castiel closed his eyes, scowling. The moment said scowl faltered and Castiel paled, Dean was up out of his seat and gripping his shoulders.

“Cas? What is it?”

“No... No,” Castiel said, though his voice lacked the absolute certainty it had before. His hand dropped limply from Ketch’s forehead to his side, and Castiel opened his eyes, glancing around with a wild urgency. “It can’t be. He’s dead.”

Ketch drew in a heavy breath, regathering himself. “I promise you, he’s not dead. How is beyond me, but Gabriel is very much alive.”

Sam watched Dean pull Castiel to the side, heard them talking in rushed low mutterings, but didn’t even attempt to eavesdrop. Instead, he traced along the scar on his palm with his thumb. His own experiences with Hell, combined with Castiel’s rather worrying reaction prompted his mind to run wild down a rather dark path.

He’d always hoped that, somehow, Gabriel had survived the encounter with Lucifer, that he’d had yet another absurd back up plan. Had even prayed a few times, when things had gotten rather dire. That hope had dimmed over time, almost put out completely when Chuck declared him dead, but if there was someone who could cheat death and hide from God, Sam figured it’d be Gabriel.

This, though, was a fate worse than death. Whilst Sam wasn’t sure he could ever truly shake the impact of Mystery Spot, he had come to understand Gabriel’s motivations and his desperate love for family. But he understood. He knew how family could drive you to extremes, could make you do things you’d never consider.

He understood, and that was close enough to forgiveness.

“Two days,” Dean said, snapping Sam out of his thoughts. “Two days to everything-proof the Bunker, prep for a supernatural lockdown, then we go save us an archangel.”

* * *

The following two days passed by in a flurry of activity.

Sam and Castiel spent most of their time in the library, pouring through tome after ancient tome for any new sigils they could put up. A brief phone call to Rowena had her agreeing to meet them at the bunker and help - a friend of the Winchesters was a friend of hers now, and the possibility of finally being rid of Lucifer, of finally being able to sleep without being gripped by fear was too much to pass up on.

An even briefer phone call to Jody let her know that they would probably be radio silent for a short while, and that there was no need for a search and rescue. She hadn’t pressed the matter, but had assured Sam that if there was any way she could help, she was just a phone call away.

Dean had insisted that Ketch shadowed his every move, just so he could keep a close watch. He wasn’t a huge fan of having to work alongside Ketch, wary of said hunter’s fickle loyalties, but Ketch had complied with a simple shrug and hadn’t stepped out of line.

They dealt with the more practical aspect of preparing to lock down, making several trips to the local shops to stock up on essentials and non-perishables. Ketch had gone as far as to insisting to cover most of the costs, assuring them that it would barely make a scratch on his inheritance fund.

The night before they had sat down, gathered about the same table Ketch had broken the news over.

“Our best bet is to enter through a portal based here,” Ketch said, tapping on the map spread between them. “Asmodeus has several set up - this one is about a three hour drive from here, and leads into a rather empty section of Hell.”

Dean took a swig from his beer, tracing the highways and roads with his eyes. “How far is it from the portal to Gabriel?” Castiel asked.

“Twenty minutes there, thirty back.”

“And you definitely know the way?”

Ketch lifted his chin and glared across at Sam. “I’ll have you know my navigation skills are excellent, even in other realms. I suppose you’ll just have to trust me.”

Dean let out an amused snort at that, but didn’t comment.

Sam was the first to retire shortly after that, saying he’d like a full night’s sleep before their daring rescue mission. Ketch had agreed, and wandered off to his temporary room, leaving Dean and Castiel alone at the table.

Dean watched the angel as he studied the map a little too intently, and frowned. “Cas?”

“Hm?” Castiel responded, lifting his head.

“You okay?”

Castiel furrowed his brow at that. “I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

Dean paused for a moment, placing his bottle down with a soft thump. “You found out your dead brother is actually not dead, and is a captive in Hell. Even if you weren’t close, that’s rough.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah, ah. So talk to me.”

“I... am worried. I am worried about what we will find, and I am worried that the Gabriel we know is gone,” Castiel said eventually, choosing to look back down at the map. A ghost of a smile spread across his lips. “Where Michael, Raphael and Lucifer were generals of Heaven, Gabriel was our older brother. He had a hand in our upbringing, more so than our Father or the other three.”

Dean nodded, holding his tongue till Castiel looked up. “I get it, I do. But if anyone can bounce back, it’s him. And I may not be his biggest fan, but we’ll all be there to help.”

Castiel smiled warmly at him, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and Dean felt something tighten in his chest. “Thank you, Dean.”


	2. the rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eyyyyyy i finally updated, hope y'all enjoy!

The drive was tense, a thick silence clouding the Impala that no-one dared break. Dean focused on the road ahead, gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary. Castiel distracted himself by studying each sign they passed, and when those were few and far between, he simply watched the horizon. Ketch let his head rest against the window, eyes closed. Sam ran through the plot of every book and tv show he could think of, knowing that, left unchecked, his imagination would take a dark path.

The three hour journey felt like it dragged on for far longer, though eventually Ketch directed them to a - surprise of all surprises - abandoned warehouse. They parked up in a cluster of trees to the side, and raided the boot for weapons.

Ketch led them into the warehouse, to a blue swirling circle on the wall, and turned around. “Stay close to me, and keep your guard up,” he said, and stepped through.

Castiel followed, his blade dropping into his hand as he vanished from sight. Dean went next, expression tight and determined.

Sam was the last to cross over, and drew a sharp breath as the humidity of Hell struck him. The air hung thick with pain and death, punctuated by a chorus of clashing, endless screams. He shut his eyes and counted to five, focusing on each individual number to clear his mind.

“Sam? You good?”

Dean watched him, concerned. Sam paused for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah,” he replied, “Yeah, I’m good.” Dean didn’t look convinced, but knew better than to argue.

“If you’re all done,” Dean shot Ketch a cold glare, “then follow me, and please, keep quiet.”

They’d barely made it to the end of the first hallway when they heard two voices cutting through the background noise. The group all dropped to the sides out of view as two demons rounded the corner.

Castiel felled the demons with an ease and grace reminiscent of the soldier he once was, barely sparing a glance for the bodies. His trenchcoat billowed behind him as he continued forward as though the demons had simply been a minor inconvenience, blade stained bright red. Sam and Dean shared a look of shock and awe, but didn’t comment, choosing to drag the bodies to the side out of sight.

The rest of the journey took a similar tone - Castiel cutting down any demon they encountered with a righteous fury, driven by determination.

Ketch raised his hand for them to stop, and pointed to thick metal door up ahead. “That one right there,” he said, pointing ahead. “I’ll stay on guard, I’d appreciate if you work with haste though.”

Castiel rounded on the door, his outstretched hand bathed in a soft blue glow, ready to break it down. Dean grabbed his arm, and when Castiel turned to him, glaring sharply, he shook his head.

“We need to keep a low profile - breaking it down is going to attract too much attention.”

Castiel paused, then relented, and allowed Sam to crouch and work on picking the lock instead. It took just over a minute for the metal door to groan open with a loud creak.

Golden eyes locked with his, and Sam drew a sharp breath in horror.

Sam recalled the tales of Loki, trussed up with his lips sewn shut as punishment for his lies, and had to swallow down the urge to vomit at seeing history repeat itself in the most gruesome way. He rushed forward and dropped to his knees in front of the archangel, lifting his hand to Gabriel’s marred cheek.

“Jesus, Gabriel, what did he do to you?”

As his fingers brushed over damaged skin, Sam felt a tidal wave of foreign emotions surge through him and faltered. Fear prickled at every nerve end. Anger danced electric through his blood. Sadness coiled tight around his throat, choking down anything he wanted to say. Hope sparked, ever so dim, deep within his chest.

Sam re-grounded himself, drawing at deep breath as wide golden eyes watched his every movement carefully. He dropped his hand from Gabriel’s face,

“Can you walk?”

A pause, then a slight head shake.

“Alright. I’m going to break these chains, then I’m going to carry you, okay?” Sam tried to keep his voice gentle, holding eye contact with Gabriel. The archangel nodded, barely a small twitch, but it was response enough for Sam. “As soon as we’re at the bunker, we’ll remove the cuffs and stitches.”

Gabriel winced at the sound of metal splintering as Sam drove his angel blade down through one of the chain links; Sam masked his horror with a calm, steady expression. He snapped the chain tethering his other wrist in same manner, but Gabriel didn’t react that time.

Sam held the the blade out to Gabriel. “In case this all goes south,” he said as the archangel eyed him cautiously. Gabriel hesitated for a moment, then took it, holding it close. With one arm looped beneath his knees, and the other about bony shoulders, Sam lifted the archangel against his chest, unnerved by just how little he weighed.

Sam suppressed a shudder as Gabriel’s hand curled tight around the back of his neck, sending foreign emotion flooding through his veins again. The urge to _runescapegetOUT_ was almost overwhelming, and it took everything Sam had to stay within the protection of their small group. He was almost grateful for the cold bite of the metal cuff, grounding him back in reality.

“Is that h- Oh. Oh man. That’s just wrong.”

“Dean,” Castiel cautioned, though upon seeing Gabriel, the younger angel looked visibly ill.

“Right, sorry, it’s just-”

“Gentlemen, I hate to interrupt, but may I remind you we are attempting to break an archangel out of Hell. A little speed wouldn’t go amiss.”

Castiel looked very much like he wanted to drive his blade through Ketch, but refrained for the time being, focusing on his brother.

Dean fell just behind Sam, bringing up the rear of the group and covering their back. Ketch led them through the labyrinth of corridors, weaving through the passageways with a determined certainty. Castiel made quick work of any demons they encountered, disturbingly reminiscent of the righteous, brutal soldier of Heaven he’d once been.

Sam’s fingers curled into a tight, protective grip around Gabriel’s shoulders as the realisation struck him as to just who was in his arms. Despite his lack of angelic purity, Gabriel was still one of the brightest, most brilliant beings in the universe. A creation shaped by the hand of God himself, older than the ground they were running on.

Sam had a fleeting thought of really, _really_ hoping he didn’t fall over. He could’ve swore he heard Gabriel huff at that, but between the endless screaming and the pounding of their own footfalls, he couldn’t be sure.

All he could focus on was moving, one foot in front of the other, and protecting the being in his arms with everything he had.

They encountered a demon in one corridor, but between Castiel and Dean, it was dealt with like it was little more than a minor obstacle in their path. Sam had to push down disgust when he realised, almost half hour later, that his arms hardly ached. A human sized being shouldn’t be so easy to carry.

“Just through here,” Ketch called back, gesturing at the portal ahead.

Dean ushered Sam forward to pass through first, surveying the corridor behind them before following suit. Castiel brought up the rear of the group, visibly relaxing the moment they were all back on solid Earth ground.

“Come on,” Dean said, gesturing with his hand for them to follow. “We can’t linger - they’re going to notice he’s gone sooner or later.”

Gabriel closed his eyes tight, pain etched into his face as they stepped out of the warehouse and into the sunlight. Sam gripped him tighter against his chest, and the archangel pressed his forehead against Sam’s shirt, letting out a sigh of relief.

Sam knew well how that felt, to have been deprived of light for so long that it hurts. He hated it. He hated to see someone else suffering with it, least of all an archangel, a creature built of divinity and righteous brilliance.

A being that once played with the fabric of time and reality for fun, reduced to wincing at sunlight.

Ketch helped him manoeuvre Gabriel into the Impala, lifting him gently as Dean fired up the engine and Castiel slid into the front seat, still gripping his blade tight. The moment Ketch shuffled in and shut his door, Dean slammed his foot down on the accelerator, kicking up dust as they sped away from the warehouse and portal.

“You’re safe now,” Sam murmured as Gabriel pressed against his side, feet tucked beneath him on the leather seats. Dean raised an eyebrow at Sam in the rear mirror; Sam shot him a glare back. Dean, at least, had the sense to look sheepish and switch his attention back to the road.

The warmth of another person beside him wasn’t entirely unwelcome, but Sam hated just how slim and angular said person felt. It was a disturbing testament to just how weak Gabriel was, and to just how long he’d been under Asmodeus’ thumb.

It should have been almost impossible to humanise an archangel to the point of their vessel needing food and losing weight, and yet the Messenger was barely able to stand, never mind maintain his vessel.

Sam laid his hand about the back of Gabriel’s neck beneath overgrown hair, knowing just how much the simple feeling of human contact helped ground him sometimes. The archangel hummed in response and closed his eyes, seemingly drifting into a light sleep.

They had been driving for just over half hour when the car radio crackled to life in a burst of static, causing Dean to swear and swerve the Impala. Sam frowned at it, Castiel tilted his head, and Ketch looked on in mild amusement.

“... Miss... Me?”

“What the fuck, dude!” Dean yelled, glancing between the radio and the road with barely concealed bewilderment.

“Gabriel, is that you?”

“... Yes...”

Ketch let out a vaguely impressed hum.

“That is creepy as anything,” Dean said, still not fully convinced that the static filled blend of male and female voices coming from his radio was Gabriel, not demonic possession.

“How?” Castiel asked, turning

“... Not... Completely... Power... Less...”

“Is- Do you need anything? Are you alright?”

“... No... And... No...”

The car fell silent for a moment, the occupants surprised at the honest answer. Gabriel had always been one to play mind games before, to make others work for answers and explanations.

“It’s over now, brother,” Castiel said, his voice low and soft. He met Gabriel’s eyes and let a sharp breath - they were attentive as ever, intense and focused, but the usual golden gleam was muted, dulled by years of torment.

Sam caught Castiel’s reaction and offered up an uneasy smile. “You’re safe now, Gabriel. We’ve got you,” Sam said, his thumb brushing lightly across the base of Gabriel’s neck.

“... Thank... You... Sleep... Now...”

Gabriel curled against Sam’s chest, hand balling up in his plaid shirt. Sam wrapped his arm about Gabriel’s shoulders, knowing just how grounding the touch of another could be, how safe a simple embrace could feel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as usual, comment and kudos give me life and make me grin like an idiot (especially if you tell me you're emotionally affected)
> 
> thanks for reading !!


	3. the aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the wait, got a bit carried away with length

Rowena stood out in stark contrast to the bunker with her signature vibrant hair and royal purple dress. As the Impala pulled to a halt, she pushed herself up from the wall and wandered over, intrigue clear on her face.

Castiel stepped out of the Impala and gripped Rowena’s upper arm in a fluid motion, pressing two fingers against her forehead. Rowena let out a sharp gasp as she felt the invasive warmth of Castiel’s grace pouring through her, withdrawing as quickly as it had happened.

“That’s no way to greet a lady!”

“My apologies,” Castiel replied, though he didn’t look particularly apologetic about it. “We’re currently evading a shapeshifting demon - I had to be certain.”

She glowered at the seraph, but chose not to push it, her attention instead falling on the small, dirty figure cradled against Sam’s chest. She looked up at the hunter, raising an eyebrow.

Sam offered up a small, weak smile. “Thanks for coming, Rowena.”

The witch simply nodded and smiled back. Ever since their talk in the Impala several weeks back, she’d fallen into a comfortable understanding with Sam. It wasn’t so much a friendship as it was an empathetic connection, but she’d needed it. They’d both needed it, to be able to talk and know someone else understood how the pure, unrelenting terror felt.

“I’d say it’s good to see you again, but I’d be lying,” Ketch said, eyeing Rowena carefully. She responded by narrowing her eyes and lifting her chin, glaring at the hunter.

“Without me, Arthur, you’d be dead,” Rowena snapped back. Ketch raised his eyebrows, clearly amused, and followed the two sets of brothers into the bunker. Rowena slammed the door shut behind her, sliding all the locks into place with a flick of her wrist.

Sam lay Gabriel down on the long wooden table, Gabriel stirring slightly, his groans muffled by stitches and layers of dried blood. There was something unsettling about seeing the archangel brought so low, the being that had once thrown them into a pocket dimension of his own creation for fun, now unconscious on their table.

“Can you heal him?”

Castiel shook his head, looking forlorn. “It would be like throwing a bucket of water into an ocean,” he said. “We should treat his vessel. The less his grace has to repair, the faster he will recover.”

They all knew Castiel meant physically, that didn’t need to verbalised. Mentally was the one up for question - they didn’t know how long Gabriel had been in Hell, or what he’d endured, or how he’d cope with being thrown straight back into the deep end.

They didn’t know just how much of Gabriel was left.

“Dean, can you grab the first aid stuff? Just bring everything.”

Dean nodded, and tapped Ketch on the shoulder. “You’re with me, where I can keep an eye on you,” Dean said, and Ketch rolled his eyes, but followed along anyways.

“Rowena, can you start working on the warding? Anything at all you can think of, we need this place sealed tight.”

“Who’s your wee friend?” Rowena asked, nodding at the unconscious archangel. Sam and Castiel glanced at each other. “I just want to know who I’m trapping myself inside with.”

“He’s... one of my brothers,” Castiel replied eventually, his tone uncertain. Rowena didn’t look satisfied with the answer, and Castiel sighed. “The Archangel Gabriel.”

“He’s on our side,” Sam reassured. Rowena raised her eyebrow, dubious. Sam didn’t blame her, given her past experiences with archangels, and offered up a tight, sympathetic smile. She seemed to mull it over for a moment before huffing and turning, walking out the room with a soft purple glow swelling around her hands.

Sam began to mentally catalogue the injuries he could see as Dean came back, followed by Ketch. Dean placed down the bulk of their first aid materials, and Ketch left a bowl of warm water on the table beside Gabriel.

“I’m going to see if we’ve got anything that’ll fit him,” Dean said, and Sam nodded.

Ketch looked over the archangel with an unreadable look, then glanced up suddenly to Sam and Castiel, as though breaking from a trance. “If there’s anything I can do to help, just give me a shout.”

Sam nodded, despite being confused at the British hunter’s apparent concern, and watched as Ketch left the room. He looked over to Castiel, who was regarding his brother with palpable sadness.

“Cas, is there any way you can keep him under? It’ll be easier for us, and better for him.”

Castiel pressed his palm against Gabriel’s forehead, the archangel moaning quietly as Castiel pushed him further into unconsciousness. “He’s out for now, but I’m not sure how long I can hold him.”

Sam nodded in acknowledgement, and started to gently clean about Gabriel’s mouth with the warm cloth. It took a few dabs before red began to stain the cloth. Sam wrung it out in the water, old blood dispersing as he twisted it, and carried on till the thread of the messy stitches were exposed.

Placing the soiled cloth down, Sam took a moment to steady his hands and push through the growing urge to vomit, then grabbed the tweezers and scissors. Even a quick glance over the archangel’s face told Sam that there was still much to deal with after his mouth, but the stitches left an unease crawling under his skin. They had to be removed before he could even properly process any other injuries.

“Cas, you good to carry on?”

Castiel glanced at Sam with a pinched expression, but simply nodded, and looked back to his brother’s still form.

Sam counted eight stitches. Eight times a needle went in and out of flesh, and pulled tight. Eight times someone repeated the same twisted motion, with the sole intention of stripping away identity and autonomy.

He took a deep breath and pulled at the first one with the tweezers. A small snip from the scissors split the thread, and Sam pulled it out, wincing at the two raised holes left behind.

He didn’t miss the way Gabriel’s expression tightened, or the way Castiel let out a soft grunt and clenched his jaw.

The second stitch was removed in a similar manner, discarded onto a piece of tissue. Dean wandered in after the third, clutching at a flannel shirt and a pair of sweat pants. “It was the best I could find,” he said, shrugging and placing the pile down on the floor.

The fourth was when Castiel almost collapsed, Dean catching him just before he hit the ground. Castiel mumbled a soft thanks as Dean helped him back up to his feet, arm still looped about the angel’s waist for support.

“Even in his weakened state, Gabriel is too much for me to contain.”

“How about you let me help? Work a little of my magic?” Rowena smirked at the startled reactions she received, her presence clearly unexpected.

“Ha. No. No way.”

“He’s never wronged me, and you said it yourself, he’s the only one who can take on L- the Devil.”

“... She’s not lying. She wants to help.”

“Fine,” Dean said, lifting his hands in surrender and stepping to the side, allowing Rowena through. She flashed him a grin and moved forward, lifting her hands.

Rowena began muttering under her breath, her eyes lighting up in the same purple hue that danced around her hands. Sam and Dean shared a concerned look over the obvious, and new show of power from the witch. She grasped Gabriel’s head between her hands, purple glow spreading about him too, slowly fading as her incantations trailed off.

Blinking a few times, she looked back up at Sam, Dean and Castiel, and smiled. “Alright boys, I’m going to go take a beauty nap. Give me a shout when the wee archangel needs waking,” Rowena called back as she wandered out the room.

“Well. That isn’t worrying at all,” Dean said, shooting Sam a glare across the table.

“Yeah, I know. But she’s helping us. She’s on our side.”

“For how long?”

“Can we focus on the task at hand? Please?” Castiel interjected, looking pointedly at the unconscious archangel.

Sam made quick work of the remaining four stitches; Gabriel’s face showed no sign of feeling any of it, relaxed and peaceful. Castiel’s hand had come to rest atop his brother’s forehead again, fingers carding through matted hair, reassuring himself that it was real.

Dean took away the tissue and cut stitches as Sam cleaned the puncture wounds. Sam hoped that Gabriel had enough grace to heal them once he woke, as he wasn’t sure he’d be able to look at them without feeling ill.

Sam cut through the ruined white shirt. Castiel drew a sharp breath as the fabric drew back to reveal a myriad of lacerations, deep and shallow, smooth and jagged. Dean closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, and sighed.

“Cas?” The angel didn’t respond, tracing each red line with his eyes, horror evident on his face. Dean gripped Castiel’s shoulder, and he finally looked up. “Cas. Go run a warm bath or something. Me and Sam have got this, okay?”

Castiel nodded and left the room silently, looking like he was utterly lost.

The two brothers set to work, disconnecting from emotion in a way they had far too much practise at. Each wound was cleaned, the deeper cuts were stitched up. It was a minor miracle that with so many open wounds, none were infected - Sam wondered briefly if that was due to Gabriel’s grace not being entirely suppressed.

“If I support him, can you check his back? See if we need to, uh, you know-”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

Sam hooked his arms under Gabriel’s and pulled his chest up against him. Dean discarded the remains of the soiled white shirt, and let out a sharp hiss at the criss-cross pattern of lash marks, old and new.

“Dean?”

“It’s, uh,” Dean said, and shook his head. “Nothing deep. Just- I’ll put on some cream.”

Sam nodded and sighed, reading between the lines. He held tight as Dean covered his back in a thin layer of antiseptic cream, and couldn’t help but be grateful that Gabriel wasn’t awake to feel the accompanying sting as the cream soaked into the marks.

Dean pulled away finally, wiping his hand off on a towel and turning away. “Can you go grab Rowena?” Sam asked as he gently lay Gabriel back down on the table. Dean nodded, about to leave when Rowena walked in with her usual dramatic flourish.

“How did you-”

“Call it witch’s intuition,” Rowena smirked, tapping her temple. “Shall we get this show on the road?”

Sam nodded and barely cast her a second glance, instead scanning over Gabriel for anything he might have missed. “I’ll go get Cas,” Dean said, half jogging out the room and down the hallway.

Rowena curled her fingers about the archangel’s forearm and muttered a few words under her breath. There was no purple light this time, no flashy magic, but the effect was almost immediate.

Gabriel shot up, eyes wide and frightened, and pushed himself away from the witch’s grip and off the table. It was clear from the way his face contorted that the sudden motion pained him, but his fight or flight instinct had kicked in, and his attention flicked frantically about the room, trying to determine the best course of action.

It took Gabriel a few moments to process that he could actually open his mouth, brow creasing as he rubbed his lips together, opening and closing them. That, despite the metal bands still encircling his wrists, he could move his arms freely. That this room was flooded with light and crisp, clean air, not clouded with darkness and the coppery scent of his own blood.

He looked down at his own torso, and saw the myriad of carefully cleaned and stitched lacerations. He watched his chest rise and fall, watched how each bright red line moved with every breath.

Gabriel lifted his head, looking back up at the two figures watching him. The woman he didn’t recognise, but she didn’t feel hostile. He could see the purple magic twisting inside her, coursing through her body, could feel the sheer power radiating off her, but she didn’t worry him. She was good.

The other figure, the taller man, felt incredibly familiar. Gabriel saw his soul, fractured beyond belief but impossibly, beautifully bright, and it clicked almost immediately. Sam Winchester. The same Sam Winchester he’d met years before, but so much more beaten down and broken.

“Gabriel?” Sam said, and Gabriel met his eyes. Saw how Sam relaxed at the familiarity he saw reflected in the archangel. “You’re safe, Gabriel. It’s over.”

Slowly, the events of the rescue and the car journey back returned to Gabriel, and he felt his defences crumbling. All the walls he had built up came crashing down at the thought of finally being safe and free. He let out a half laugh, half sob, hardly noticing as Sam came to kneel beside him, water in one hand and a plaid shirt in the other.

Sam helped him shrug the shirt over his shoulders, his back prickling with pain, protesting as every movement stretched and shifted damaged skin. Gabriel could feel the warmth radiating from Sam’s soul, wanted to curl into its brilliance. The demons had been bleak and empty and cold, devoid of any of his Father’s light, but Sam. Sam was so vibrant and pure and safe.

It felt so removed from Hell, so different, and Gabriel desperately wanted to trust this reality, to believe it.

“... This is real?”

Rowena grimaced at Gabriel’s ravaged voice; Sam tried to push away any visible reaction and held out a cup of water. Gabriel’s fingers brushed against Sam’s hand momentarily as he took the drink, but it was enough to send foreign emotions spiking through his entire being again.

The fear still lingered, an overwhelming worry that gripped him tight. But the hope that was merely a spark before had blossomed and brightened, deep seated in his chest.

“This is real. You’re safe here,” Sam said, trying to keep his voice level. Gabriel watched him with a distant expression, unblinking and unreadable. “Cas ran a bath for you, so you can clean up?” Sam angled it as a question, knowing Asmodeus’ ‘attempt’ at training had likely entailed a lot of commands and obeying, with little room for choices and decisions.

Gabriel either didn’t process Sam’s question, or simply chose to ignore it. He remained silent, lips drawn into a tight line. Gabriel lifted his hand to his lips; Sam caught his wrist, fingers clasped around the cool metal of the manacle, internally berating himself as he saw the alarm on the archangel’s face.

“Open wounds,” Sam said quickly, letting go. “If you touch them, they could get infected.”

Gabriel remained still, then slowly lowered his hand back onto his lap. He didn’t react when Dean came back, Castiel in tow.

“Brother?” Castiel called out, his voice tinged with desperation. “Gabriel?”

Gabriel looked up slowly at the seraph in front of him, and offered up a forced smile. “Castiel,” he said, his throat still rough and sore. He saw Castiel mask his flare of anger beneath relief, forcing the righteous fury down.

“Can I remove them?” Castiel asked, gesturing at the cuffs. Gabriel regarded them for a moment, hesitating, before offering his wrist up to his brother.

Castiel smiled at the obvious show of trust, and gripped the metal manacle with both hands. His eyes lit up a vibrant blue as he poured every fragment of his grace into the cuffs, overloading the sigils and cracking the warding. The first fell to the floor with a sharp clatter, and Gabriel drew a sharp breath at the surge of grace within him, crackling electric within his chest.

The second one took a little longer, but Castiel persevered, brow furrowing in determination. Gabriel shuddered, bracing himself with his hands pressed flat against the floor as his grace surged through him, wild and untethered. It was depleted and uncontrollable, but it was there.

It was actually there.

This was real.

Castiel held his hand out, his smile spreading impossibly wide when Gabriel took it and allowed himself to be pulled up. It was Gabriel who wrapped his arms around Castiel, holding tight like he feared this would all slip away the moment he let go. He probably did.

Castiel held his brother tight, curling his tattered wings about Gabriel’s vessel. He felt a sob rip through Gabriel’s body, choked down and barely audible by the time it reached his lips, and let his grace curl about the archangel.

“It’s okay, brother,” Castiel murmured, even though he knew himself that it wasn’t okay. “It’ll be okay, Gabriel. I promise you, you’re safe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have to be honest, i'm not hugely happy with this chapter, but i didn't want to keep delaying the update, and i wanted to try and get this chapter (and possibly next) out before ep 17 airs (those promo photos broke my heart)
> 
> i hope you enjoy reading this at least, as always, comments and kudos make my day (no lie, getting the notification for a comment makes me grin so much, and i'll try to be better at replying to them all)

**Author's Note:**

> title is inspired by "taste" by sleeping at last
> 
> as always, comments and kudos are really appreciated! you don't know how much it makes my day when i get an email! and if you want to chat/send me a prompt, my tumblr is astralgabriel


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